


They Danced

by motherbearof3



Series: Bites From the Apple [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 12:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12169248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherbearof3/pseuds/motherbearof3
Summary: A surprising chance encounter reunites two old rivals. Have they both changed enough that they can now be friends? Or more?





	They Danced

**Author's Note:**

> I have Spotify on in one ear all day at work, and what I listen to varies widely. A week or so ago, Brad Paisley's "We Danced" came on and this literally wrote itself in my head at work. If you've never heard the song, give it a listen first. 
> 
> The song is Brad's, the characters and other original bits are the amazing J.K. Rowling''s. Only the plot is mine.
> 
> This is my first foray into writing fan fiction in 37 years. Oh, I was just struck with the irony that 1980 is the year Harry Potter was born! Wow! Please be gentle with my ego but also lmk if it's horrible.
> 
> Now, on with the show!

Hermione Granger unlocked her flat and stepped inside, kicking off her shoes. It had been a fun evening, but she was knackered and ready to sleep. She and her friends had celebrated Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley’s engagement at a new pub in Diagon Alley. As she went to lock the door she realized she didn't have her bag. _Damn._ She must have left it on the table at the pub. She remembered putting it down when everyone was giving hugs all around saying goodnight.

Sighing, she stepped into a pair of flat shoes. She wasn't putting her heels back on, cushioning charm or not. Exiting her flat, she walked to the corner and disapparated back to Diagon Alley. The exterior sign was out at the pub, but she could see lights on inside, turned up brighter than the regular atmosphere. Probably a cleaning crew. She hoped if it was house elves they were paid employees. Pushing open the door, she saw chairs moving through the air, magically being turned upside down and placed on the tables to free up the floor for cleaning.

“Hello?” she called

“Sorry, but we’re closed,” returned a male voice.

“I know, but I’m afraid I left my bag. It's beaded -- “

“...with an undetectable extension charm. I knew it was yours, Granger, as soon as I saw it.”

Hermione stared at the man who walked out of the shadows by the bar, broom in his hand. _Draco Malfoy?_ Then clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized she'd spoken out loud.

“In the flesh.” He smirked at her. “Wondering what I'm doing here, sweeping up a pub at 2 a.m.?”

She nodded, her eyes wide. No one had seen or heard from Draco for at least a year. Rumor had it he'd gone to the continent to escape the press coverage of his father’s sentencing to Azkaban. He himself was pardoned after she, Harry and Ron, albeit grudgingly, had testified that Draco had never actually committed any Death Eater crimes.

“I own the place. Came back from France and decided to invest the Malfoy money in something different for a change.” His piercing silver eyes met hers and she remembered a little too late he was skilled in Leglimency and had probably known what she had just thought.

“It's a nice pub,” she said finally. “I was here for --”

“Potter and Weasley’s engagement party,” he finished her sentence again. “I know. I own the place, remember? You lot went through a fair bit of Firewhiskey. I need to order more.”

“If you were here, why didn't you come out and say hello?” She crossed the room, avoiding the chairs that were still magically being put on the tabletops. “And why are you doing this --” she waved her hand at the chairs and the broom, “yourself?”

“Always the curious one, aren’t you Granger?” Draco avoided her questions by resuming sweeping the floor.

Draco had watched the Golden Trio and their friends celebrate that evening from his office over the bar that was equipped with a one-way glass. He’d had it installed to watch for overly intoxicated patrons, but that night he’d watched his former schoolmates with more than a touch of envy. Anyone he had called a friend at Hogwarts had long severed that tie, either because of his father or because being friends with him had failed to gain them anything.

She followed the movement of his arms as he swept, noticing his shirtsleeves were folded to his elbows and she saw the faded, but still visible dark mark on his forearm. She wondered idly if it was one that wouldn’t ever fade completely, like her own scar;  which was courtesy of his aunt Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Well, if you aren’t going to talk to me, the least you can do is give me my bag and I’ll leave you to your sweeping,” she said finally, holding out her hand.

He stopped sweeping and put the broom against the bar. Then he reached over and picked up her beaded bag from where he had put it after discovering it on the table where she’d left it. But instead of handing it to her, on impulse he said,  
  
“You’ll only get it back on one condition.”

“What would that be, Malfoy?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Merlin only knew what that condition might be.

“Dance with me, Granger.” Using wandless, non verbal magic, he lowered the lights and started the magical jukebox in the corner to playing a slow song.

“Dance?” Hermione squeaked.

“Surely you remember how to dance? You had lessons before the Yule Ball didn’t you? Of course, I didn’t need any.” He placed her bag on the top of the bar and in two strides stood in front of her. Taking one of her hands in his, he placed the other at her waist and pulled her closer than she had ever been to Draco Malfoy before.

The song playing was a Muggle tune she remembered seeing listed when she had looked at the jukebox earlier in the evening. She had been surprised to even see one in a wizarding pub, but assumed it had been modified to play magically. As he started to lead her around the floor, she instinctively put her other hand on his shoulder. Had they always been this broad and muscular?

He was right, he hadn’t needed lessons. Part of being a pureblood wizard included dancing lessons of all kinds from a young age, and his feet moved effortlessly, leading her around the hardwood floor. It was calming, dancing with him, and she relaxed a little in his loose embrace. In her flats, the top of her head barely came past his chin, and her hair smelled of vanilla and something flowery. Draco didn’t know what possessed him to barter a dance for her bag, but holding her in his arms just felt right.

The first song flowed into a second without stopping. Relaxed and tired at the late hour, Hermione found herself putting her head on Draco’s chest as they continued dancing; slower now and felt him draw her closer, tucking her hand in his against his shirt. For the first time in a long while, she felt safe. Like nothing else mattered. The fact that it was Draco Malfoy gave her pause, but it was too enjoyable to dwell on. As for Malfoy, he suddenly realized with startling clarity that this was what he had been dreaming about his whole life and what had drawn him back to England. Hermione Granger.

When the second song ended, her sleepy brain a whirl with thoughts, she regretfully stepped from his arms and said, “Thank you for the dance, Malfoy. May I have my bag? It really is quite late.” He nodded and handed it to her wordlessly then watched as she turned and disapparated.

The next evening, he sat in his office watching the pub patrons through the glass, wondering how he was going to see Hermione again, when a familiar head of curly hair caught his eye. He stood up and walked to the glass because he didn’t trust what he was seeing but there she was. Granger was sitting alone at a table tucked away in the corner. It was almost closing time and the crowds were thin. When had she come in? More importantly, why had she come in? He watched as she sat there, her hands wrapped around a glass of something. Suddenly, she lifted her head and looked straight at him, as if she could see through the one-way panel. Then she smiled. He spun on his heel and was out of the office, down the stairs and across the pub to where she sat faster than a seeker after a snitch.

“Granger.”

“Malfoy.” She raised her glass and took a sip.

“What are you doing here? Alone?”

“I’m not alone anymore. Can you sit down or do you have work to do?”

He pulled out the other chair at the table and sat down, drinking in the sight of her, not believing she was back. Last night had almost seemed as if a dream when he woke that morning. Maybe it was and he was still dreaming. He didn’t care. But it wasn’t a dream, and Hermione came back the next night, and the night after that, until she was stopping into the pub every night. Sometimes they sat at that corner table, sometimes they went up to his office where it was quieter and more private. A couple of times she stayed late enough to help him magic the chairs onto the tables and sweep the floor. Then they danced, as they had that first night.

Weeks flowed into months, and before either realized it had been half a year since Hermione had left her bag in Draco’s pub. Neither had ever been happier. Then one evening after they had locked the doors behind the last patron and the chairs were moving onto the tables, Hermione went to fetch the brooms. When she returned, Draco was standing by the bar, looking at her oddly.

“What is it?” she asked. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a jeweler’s box. With trembling hands, he opened it to reveal a diamond engagement ring. The brooms clattered to the floor. Her hand flew to her mouth as it had the first night when she’d returned for her bag.

“These past six months made me realize you're all I've ever wanted. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Tears filled her eyes as she reached for his hand holding the ring.

“I'll only marry you on one condition, Malfoy,” she said, wandlessly bringing the jukebox to life with the same song as that first night.


End file.
